While My Pretty One Sleeps
by kitsune21809
Summary: Takes place during 'Gilligan's Personal Magnetism'. Gilligan takes his trickery to a whole new level as he sneaks into the girls' room after he's been invisible.


I can't believe no one's ever thought of this. A little something to kill time because it's 10:30 PM and I'm bored and can't sleep. I dedicate this to ForeverLulu who loves MAG smut as much as I do. Takes place during 'Gilligan's Personal Magnetism' when Gilligan is turned invisible. Ooc, just assume they're already in a relationship or something. Enjoy…

* * *

While My Pretty One Sleeps

He's in the corner when she walks into his hut, calling his name. He stays absolutely still, waiting, watching. She looks around and goes to stand beside his hammock. "He could be asleep and I wouldn't even know it." She mutters, reaching a hand out. He fights back the urge to chuckle; this is actually pretty fun. Like hide and go seek only they can't find him no matter how hard they seek.

Her hand reaches out blindly, hovers in the air above and draws back in indecision. "I don't know if he sleeps with his head at this end or…" She looks the other way, "that end." He sneaks around to stand behind her, the smell of homemade soap and perfume tickling his nose as he leans close. She turns away and takes up a blanket from the table behind her (clever girl); drapes it over the cot then frowns as it deflates with nary a bump. She sighs.

"He isn't even here!" She turns away with a little frown and takes the glass she brought with her, intending to leave. Until his phantom voice stops her and she freezes. "Looking for me Mary Ann?" It sounds off, not the carefree pitch she's used to from him, but it's not sad either. It's darker, almost teasing. She looks around and sees nothing of course, but she can't pinpoint the voice either. Though it sounded close; too close.

"Hi Gilligan." Her fingers play with the little straw in the glass and suddenly she's nervous. It's that voice. She's never heard him sound like that before. It sends a shiver down her spine. "Where are you?"

She thinks she feels something graze her cheek, then her side but it's gone too quickly. Her heart skips in her chest and her fingers tighten on the glass. "How do you feel?" She says quietly, timidly.

"Alright I guess." The dark edge to his voice is gone, it's sadder now, sounds more like him now. She turns her head where she thinks he could be and chances a grin and a little laugh. "I'm glad you feel alright, wherever you are."

"M'over here." He mutters and she goes behind the cots. "Where's here?"

He says nothing and she sighs.

"Gilligan, I made you your favorite drink." She looks around, hoping for a sign; a dent in a chair; a foot print in the sand, anything. "It's got banana, and papaya…and coconut." She feels a soft touch against her wrist and she looks down, smiles at the white mixture slowly disappearing from the glass. "Well, you certainly made that disappear." Winces, brings her fingers up to her lips. "Oh, I'm sorry Gilligan."

"S'alright." He mutters, pulling the glass from her fingers. She watches it hover in the air, fascinated. Then it floats the table and doesn't move again. It's surreal, ghost-like. She reaches out in front of her, probing, searching and finds only air. "Gilligan?"

She feels a warm breath against her ear, a fleeting touch against her neck as her hair sweeps itself over her shoulder. "Hmm?" He hums. Her breath sticks in her throat. "What are you doing?" she whispers.

She feels the warmth of him against her back but finds herself alone in the mirror. It's a strange thing, to feel these things and see nothing to prove it. "Nothing." He playfully mutters to her right. He's beginning to like this. He can do things now he never even dreamed of before. She can't see him, can't anticipate his next move because she can't see it coming, can't read it in his expression, can't make him nervous as she looks him in the eye with that teasing, knowing grin.

He's been doing lots of sneaky things today. Eavesdropping on the Skipper and the Professor, playing tricks on the Howells, moving Ginger's things as she sets them down, scaring her.

His fingers play with the tips of her hair, twist it this way and that through the air. She watches in wonder and he watches her face. Suddenly, she turns, places her hands against his chest as she smiles. "Found you." He stares into her eyes as she stares at his chin, unknowing, unsure and her fingers flex against his shirt. She snickers. "We really should put a bell around your neck."

He chuckles. "Fun sucker." He watches her eyes widen as his hands slide against her sides, long fingers hook into her belt loops and pull her closer. His breath is a wave of warmth against her nose and her breath hitches in her throat as she's pressed against him. This can't be Gilligan! That laser must have messed with his head. He's never so forward with her.

Something twists in her gut, a feeling she's quickly starting to like as his fingertips tickle the skin just between the hem of her shorts and shirt.

"But can you do it again?"

With a playful laugh he releases her and she stumbles. "Gilligan?"

But the warmth is gone; the smell of him is fading. She rakes a hand through her bangs and releases a shaky breath. Then, after regaining her composure, leaves the hut.

* * *

It's hot tonight. Sticky and humid from the rain and she kicks the covers off and sighs in her sleep. Ginger lies facing the wall on the other side of the hut, blanket pushed down exposing one pale breast and the beginning ridges of ribs. He ducks to the brunette's side, ignoring the red head.

Her legs are bent, her shirt gaping in the front, the crease of her cleavage peeking out, her collar tan and sharp against her skin. She tucks an arm behind her head, pulling the fabric tighter. He presses a knee into the mattress as he leans over her, fingers plucking at the buttons, pulling them free. She shifts and he pauses, waits with bated breath. He pushes the tattered old fabric aside and she sighs as his hand slides across her ribs and around one soft breast. His thumb flicks over the tip and she unconsciously arches into it.

He grins, presses his nose into her neck, runs a warm, wet tongue over the skin presented there and presses his body closer to her. Her skin is hot again his naked chest, soft and tingling. His left hand slides across her thigh as it arches around his hip, down lower across her pelvis and lower. Fingers brush the soft fringe of her underwear, then delve beneath. The fabric contorts beneath his fingers, shifting and moving as if on its own. She releases a soft little moan and her eyes flutter open. She's confused to find nothing there, but these feelings, the warmth of a man's touch against her, the skin of her breast distorted as they're handled with such care, the hot breath against her neck. And then the fingers outlined beneath the soft cotton of her panties, moving erotically, slowly with each shocking stroke. Her eyes widen and she arches against her will into the touch. "Gilligan!" She gasps heatedly, her fingers gripping invisible shoulders. He grins into her skin and slides up to kiss her.

She glances over at Ginger as he returns to her neck, sucking and nipping; afraid the other woman will wake and find her there. But she stays facing the wall and Mary Ann sighs as his hand rubs faster against her. "Gilligan…wh…what are you doing?" Her fingers trace down his arms, tighten against his biceps as a shockwave courses through her and she groans, dropping her head into her pillow.

He chuckles against her cheek, his fingers pulling the delicate fabric of her underwear over her thighs. She watches them, entranced. She can see the outline of his fingers in the cloth but it's as if they move of their own accord. "I'm taking advantage of being invisible. Isn't it fun?" She closes her eyes as his hands slide down past her waist, capturing her bottom and pulling her against him. "I can only imagine what Ginger would say if she woke up and saw you like this." He snickers. Wild sensations flood through her, thoughts fled. She's consumed by the touch of mouth to mouth, the pressure of seeking lips. By the sweet entanglement of tongues. Desire throbs and demands, absorbing everything. His skin burns, hot and lovely beneath her hands. His mouth burns, moist and sweet against her lips. It's worth anything, everything, to feel this pleasure and exhilaration, as if she were melting beneath a foreign sun and were being formed into a new creature.

"She'd know it was you…" She mutters.

"Not at first, she wouldn't."

"Gilligan, that's just..." She gasps as he presses fevered kisses along the ivory column of her throat and at the beginning swell of her breasts. She lowers her gaze to the torches burning brightly against the black of the night outside. "Tell me you want this." His voice is raw as he holds his desire in check. Could she willingly make herself any more vulnerable to this man? Until now, she had never imagined that such wildly wanton sensations were possible. She's as much a stranger to the liquid fire spreading upward from her loins, awakening a strange, burning hunger within her that seems to set her whole being ablaze with desire. The persuasive titillation of his mouth and tongue blunts her will to resist, and though she relishes each blissful stroke that strums across the gut-strings of her being, she strives desperately to gather the scattered fragments of her wits.

"I do." She whispers, her hands running along his sides. "I want this, I want you."

She can smell him, that familiar scent of musk, of ocean, of maleness. He slips his hand beneath her shirt, slides them up her arms, across her shoulders, then back down, taking her shirt along with them. His lips lower to her breast, and his mouth closes on her nipple. Heat flashes through her, and the muscles of her stomach clench.

He nips at the tender peak, gently rolling her sensitive flesh between his teeth. Her fingers reach out, blindly digging into his hair as he continues his assault. She arches backwards, the sensations almost too intense to bear. She can hear the harsh sound of her breathing echo in the air. His teeth close gently on the small nub, nibbles, then pulls, stroking her, teasing her, until she feels as though she would incinerate right there in his arms.

He moves over her, parts her thighs and presses slowly, deeply inside. Again, sensation after sensation ripples through her with an intensity that consumed. And she wants nothing more than to merge into one with him. He thrusts shallowly, then deeply, not letting her get used to the rhythm. She nestles against the blankets, her breaths coming in halting gasps. She feels every inch of him, but she wants more. She rocks against him, trying to take more, _feel _more.

She arches up from the bed and gives a low cry of satisfaction. She meets each thrust with her one of her own. He cups her buttocks in his palms and lifts her deeper into his thrusts. Her head thrashes back and she bites her lip, tries to keep quiet because Ginger is miraculously still asleep, but this fact doesn't keep him from releasing a heated groan into her ear. His texture inside her, his passion, tension coils tighter and tighter with each stroke of his body. Passion streaks through her, building, spiraling. Her senses sharpen, send shards of sensations: darkness, light, earth, sea, musk, Gilligan.

He thrusts again and she climaxes, the tension exploding with a force that sends a fiery release through her. An instant later she feels him follow, spasms again and again within her, spilling his seed into her womb. With a heated groan, the mattress dents as he sinks beside her and his arms tangle around her middle. She feels him kiss her, feels his fingers tangle in her hair. He pulls away and she tries to return the sentiment. He laughs softly, whispers, "missed."

She pouts. "This would be more fun if I could see you." She says.

"For you maybe." He chuckles.

* * *

When she wakes up, she's alone and Ginger's leaning over her, arms crosses and catty grin stretched across her features. "Since when do you sleep in the nude?" She asks. She's already dressed in one of her luxurious evening gowns, her hair perfectly coiffed and arranged. Mary Ann sighs and runs a hand through her bangs, knowing she must look a mess after last night. But the thought brings a dreamy little smile to her face. Ginger gasps. "I knew it! I know that look!"

Mary Ann pushes off the bed and wanders over to their little homemade closet. "You know nothing. It just got…hot…last night." She pulls on her shorts as Ginger scoffs. "I'm sure." She says.

"Who was it?" She presses as Mary Ann ties her shirt under her ribcage. "No one." Mary Ann says.

"Not the Professor, there's no way he could have snuck around here without someone noticing… And Gilligan's…" she stops, eyes wide as she turns to her friend who's back stiffens. "Invisible!" She practically shrieks in glee. _"Mary Ann!"_

"Nothing happened!" She says, ready to walk out the door when her friend catches her arm. "Wait, you mean he snuck in and…" The fact that her friend won't even look at her tells all and Ginger gapes at her. "I was right there! What if I had woke up? I would have saw…"

"Nothing, because that's what happened." Mary Ann smiles. Ginger releases her and smirks. "Oh, I'd have seen something alright, just not _him!_"

Mary Ann blushes hotly and practically runs out the door.


End file.
